


Baby in a Trenchcoat

by IAmTheRainbowSheep



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Baby Castiel, Castiel is a child, Chuck is God, Fledgling Castiel, Good Older Sibling Lucifer, Kid Castiel, No Apocalypse, Resurrection, Self-Sacrifice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-11
Updated: 2016-10-14
Packaged: 2018-08-08 02:48:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7740499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IAmTheRainbowSheep/pseuds/IAmTheRainbowSheep
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lucifer was Castiel's guardian before his Fall, but after he was cast out, nobody would accept Castiel anymore, deeming him to be as corrupted as Lucifer. Castiel and Lucifer meet again after many years, and Lucifer becomes angrier at the fact that his brothers had abandoned Castiel. Castiel didn't want Lucifer to fight, but upon realizing that he still would, decided to take drastic measures and performs a ritual that requires the blood of an Angel. Predestined battle forgotten, the two Archangels rush to Heaven to get Castiel some help, as Castiel's Grace screams for help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Castiel walked down the hall, entering a dark, dingy room, and was blinded by a bright light as he heard a familiar voice say “Hello, brother.” Castiel looked down to see he was surrounded by holy fire, and looked to meet his older brother' eyes.

“Lucifer,” he responded, and Lucifer looked around, behind Castiel, and frowned.

“So I take it you're here with the Winchesters,” Lucifer said, not asking, for he already knew the answer.

“I came alone,” Castiel told the man in front of him sadly, noticing the vessel that was slowly being destroyed and the exhausted yet driven eyes of the vessel.

“Loyalty. Such a nice quality to have in this day and age. Who came with you, Castiel? Angel-wise, I mean. Who is watching over you?” Lucifer asked, getting more and more curious and concerned when he noticed that the youngest angel of Heaven was left alone... with him, the one they call most corrupted.

“I... am alone, Lucifer,” Castiel responded, averting his eyes. Lucifer wasn't satisfied, more questions arising, rather than being answered. When Castiel met his eyes, filled with sadness and shame, he understood immediately. 

“They cast you out,” he breathed, not wanting to believe that his brothers abandoned the one they all swore to protect. Castiel was cast out for loving the humans too much, Lucifer realized, and the anger arose in his chest like fire. “They didn't assign a new guardian after me, Castiel? They didn't... find someone to watch over you?”

Castiel shook his head, and sent the mental message to Lucifer: nobody wanted me, brother. Lucifer felt angrier than ever, he had failed his baby brother; they'd all failed him. “I see,” Lucifer nodded, looking away. He took notice of the fact that Castiel was going to have to shed his vessel soon for his grace to repair itself, something that happened to young angels like Castiel while they were growing.

“You don't have to fight, Lucifer. You can fix this,” Castiel told his guardian, the one and only person that made him feel like he was as good as everyone else. He knew that he was begging, and Lucifer knew that too, but Lucifer shook his head, not even looking at Castiel as he extinguished the fire with a snap.

“I'm sorry, Castiel. Stay out of this,” he ordered, meeting the younger boy's eyes for a long 5 seconds before disappearing.

Lucifer should have told him that he wouldn't fight, should have lied or should have done what Castiel wanted, but he didn't. And for that, he was going to learn a very painful lesson very soon.  
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

It came too soon for all parties involved, and Castiel felt terrified as he and Dean drove to the cemetery that everything was going to take place in. Dean was driven by his need to see his brother, even if it were to be the last thing he'd see. He nearly human, his grace fading quickly, but he knew what he had to do, he just hoped that it would work.

“Michael,” the younger of the two archangels greeted the eldest. Michael nodded in response, determination written on his face as he looked into the eyes of the boy he raised. He saw the raw look of a boy betrayed and abandoned, and exhaled. “You all abandoned him, Michael. Every single one of you left and cast him out as well. All because he did what God wanted and loved the humans. Why?”

Michael met his younger brother' gaze steadily. “He rebelled, like you, Lucifer. He disobeys orders and chooses the Winchesters, every single time.”

“He chooses the people that didn't abandon him, cause they actually made him feel like he wasn't a disgrace,” Lucifer replied hotly. Michael sighed, shaking his head.

“Are you ready?” He asked impatiently, but there was a tinge of not wanting to fight in his tone.

“As I'll ever be.”

Dean and Bobby raced into the cemetery as the two Archangels circled one another, with Castiel in the back seat. “Howdy, boys!” Dean yelled as Bobby molotov'd Michael. Dean and Bobby walked up to Lucifer. With a snap of his fingers, Bobby's neck broke. Dean was trying to talk to Sam, but Lucifer and Castiel both knew that Sam wasn't there, being heavily pushed down. They only had a short amount of time so Castiel pulled the supplies out of Dean's bag and got to work. Skull of the Lamb was set on the ground, serving as a bowl for the other things necessary to put an end to this.

He pulled out a sheet of paper where the instructions were written. At the top, the name was written in bold, red letters: Angel' Sacrificial Call of Unity. He put the first ingredient, a snake scale and dove feather, into the skull with shaky hands. He listened as Dean and Lucifer talked, hoping that Dean could keep the other occupied and that they both could forgive him. Next came the rosary of the sinful man and the bloody bullet of a righteous man. Two things that would tilt the scale of balance, that would further push people to idolizing the wrong people.

He lit the bowl on fire, and it glowed with a bright purple light: the color of Lucifer' and Michael' wings mixed together. It mixed the calmness of Michael's majestic blue wings and Lucifer's fierce red wings. The third and final part of the ritual was next; Castiel was shaking horribly, as he poured the demon blood into the fire and pulled out the angel blade. Looking upwards as he heard Dean being beaten, he plunged it into his stomach, leaning over so that the blood filled the bowl quickly. One bloody hand reached out to steady himself as he rested his hand on the side of the Impala. The wound throbbed coldly as he pulled the knife out but in a matter of seconds, the burning began and weak light oozed from beneath his skin.

The fire changed colors, turning pure white like God' true form, and Castiel sent out a final prayer to his Father and Creator. “Please, Father...” Castiel begged God to listen, closing his eyes as his hands and feet became numb. “Forgive me. I'm sorry. I... I'm ready, Father. Please... please fix this.”

He knew it was only going to a few seconds before his grace would leave his body in the most agonizing of ways. It would be worse than having his wings torn off, one bone at a time; that much, he was certain of. He could hear everything and nothing at all, as if his ears were filled with gusts of wind but just the sound of fabric on fabric grated on his nerves. Stomach churning, his vision began to dim as he inhaled, before his eyes widened and he let out a blood-curdling scream. It was excruciating, and the grace tried to fight the ritual, not wanting to be destroyed, but having no choice.

Lucifer paused, and as did Dean, both startled and confused. Michael reappeared, anger turning into dread as he heard the soul-crushing wails that were begging for help, and they all looked at one another before it hit Dean. “No,” he breathed, pushing Lucifer away and running. He paused as he took in the sight of the angel that he'd always believed to be absolute and indestructible, no matter what happened... bleeding severely, dark hair stuck to pale skin as the light ebbed from his defeated blue eyes.

“CAS!” He cried, quickly reaching him and dropping to his knees. He held the man in his arms as he glowed brightly before shedding his vessel, turning into a child that was hardly the age of four. The cloaking had fallen, but his grace was nearly depleted and quickly fading, thus making him nearly human.

At the horrendous screams, two archangels ran towards the sound of a child screaming in pain. Lucifer closed his eyes for a second as Michael ran and pulled the angel into his arms, rushing to be able to take the boy home, a place that he himself had cut the boy from. “Dammit!” Michael yelled, and Lucifer was at his side, checking the pulse, that was too slow and quickly fading.

Forgetting their predestined objective too fight, they both rushed to Heaven's finest hospital. Leaving Sam and Dean together with Bobby, and sending Adam's soul to Heaven, they ascended. Surprisingly, Lucifer was able to enter, but neither thought on it as they rushed to save the boy they all agreed to love. As Michael ran he tried to ignore the blood soaking through his clothing, the limp body of a young boy he'd failed and the grace that was crying out for their father's salvation but receiving none.

Lucifer's heart was pounding and yet, felt crushed and hopeless. He watched as Michael laid the frail body on the bed, as trained healers came in and rushed to save him, but even when the most powerful healer came, nothing happened. Raphael looked frustrated at being so helpless, not able to help the boy that was a fledgling not so long ago, not able to save him. Lucifer and Michael stood at the side as they watched countless angels run around uselessly. They refused to look at each other, lest they both start sobbing... it was all over, but was it truly worth it?

“Dammit, Castiel,” Raphael sighed, slamming his fist on the bedside table. After what felt like hours, the healers slowly left, one by one, with sad smiles and words of 'there's nothing else we can do' as they walked away. And so the three of Heaven's most powerful stood there, watching as their youngest laid there dying, grace becoming weaker and weaker.

“He's not actively dying, but... it's going to happen,” Raphael admitted to his brothers.

“He sacrificed himself, for the people that had failed him repeatedly. He willingly let himself die so that his two stupid brothers wouldn't have to fight. Fuck, Cas, wake up,” Lucifer begged, resting his head on the little one's hand. Michael placed his hand on the blond man's shoulder. 

Michael averted his stinging eyes as Raphael walked out to compose himself, and there was a gust of wind and bright orange light as Gabriel appeared in front of them all. He looked surprised, and the two older ones looked up to see him examining his newly formed body, which looked as it had when he had faced Lucifer and lost the battle. Brown eyes looked from his older brothers, to the little boy that was too pale and too frail for Gabriel to comfortable. “Is that Cassie?” Gabriel swallowed past the lump in his throat.

Michael embraced the brother he hadn't seen for far too long, and Lucifer remorsefully placed his hand on the youngest archangel' shoulder. Gabriel shrunk back from the brother that killed him, but saw the pained look in Lucifer' eyes and smiled softly. “He's fading... what happened?” Gabriel tore his eyes from Castiel and looked into Michael's, practically begging for a good excuse, an explanation of why the youngest angel in Heaven was dying. 

“He stopped the Apocalypse, in return for his life and grace,” Michael explained numbly, not quite believing it, denying it all in his heart.

“Call of Unity,” Gabriel breathed, slumping into a seat. “Dammit, I should have known only Castiel would be stupid enough to do this!”

“Are you going to explain?”

“It's an ancient ritual that involves things like the feather of a dove and snake skin or whatever, it's meant to unite Heaven and Angels once more. It also requires a willing sacrifice of an angel that's been cast away. I honestly thought that the only one that would qualify was Luci, but that was never going to happen, so I didn't worry...”

“Is it... permanent? Is he going to die?” Lucifer asked, hoping beyond hope that there was some other way. Hell, he'd even sacrifice himself to avoid Castiel's death. He took his seat next to Castiel's bed, and Michael leaned against a wall.

“We have to wait around a month, and if that's going to be the end of it... I guess we'll find out,” Gabriel answered bleakly, hating himself as the words left his lips. Lucifer turned away from Gabriel and stared at Castiel, his Castiel. Michael looked at his hands for a second, not wanting to leave but knowing that he had to do so.

“I need to go and inform the other Angels that the Apocalypse has been averted and not to try and start it. I'll return before nightfall,” Michael told the other two, and Gabriel nodded while Lucifer ignored him completely. He quickly flew away, wings beating rapidly behind him, and the other lesser angels quickly made way for the strongest Angel in Heaven.

“If he... when he wakes up, you think he'll still have those nicknames for us?” Gabriel asked, and Lucifer gave a sad smile. “Luci, Mikey, Raphy and Gabe. Wonder what he'll call Dean?”

“Michael's vessel?” Lucifer asked for clarification, but he already knew the answer.

“Yeah, of course. Little Cassie's crush,” Gabriel laughed, and Lucifer looked disbelieving before smiling back. “Or how Dean would react to finding out that Cassie's actually a baby angel. Their bad-ass protector is actually just an angel that just turned four.”

They spent the rest of the night talking, trying to keep the tone light, and the lower-ranked angels would occasionally come and offer support, looking fearfully at Lucifer before kneeling to the Archangels. Michael soon came, exhausted and irritated, blue wings sagging behind him. “Mike, how was it?” Michael's eyes rested to meet Gabriel's, giving him a look of 'are you joking?' but answered nonetheless.

“Many want Lucifer dead and Castiel to be cut off from Heaven. Oh, and they also believe that Castiel deserves this, and that the Apocalypse should be put into place,” he told them, and Gabriel nodded.

“Morons, the lot of them,” Lucifer replied flatly, and Michael nodded. “Castiel doesn't deserve to die.”

“Neither do you, Lucifer,” Michael responded softly, but Lucifer ignored him, studying a book on the bedside table about Grace and how it can be destroyed.

And so the days passed, each day getting more bleak with all of them slowly coming to accept the fact that their little angel was going to die, and they could do nothing about it. Lucifer had destroyed most of the evil demons, but let a select few slink away. Crowley and Meg were two that he had allowed to gain power and lead Hell for him, to transform Hell to be a place to reform people to be good, but the rest were utterly destroyed. 

Michael gathered the most loyal followers and had them destroy whomever tried to kick-start the Apocalypse or do anything against his orders. A few had protested, but most submitted to his word, not wanting to be eradicated. He explained that with Castiel's sacrifice, Heaven was united and there would be no more fighting tolerated. However, even as he asked for faith, he himself wondered where their Father was, why He hadn't returned now that Heaven was once again one.

Gabriel worked as Messenger once more, helping those that needed it most, trying to restore the human faith in God. It was a bit of a challenge, with so many cynics nowadays, but if you just make someone see it for themselves, then even the most doubtful will bow down and worship. The Kingdom of God was coming to Earth, and it would come once everyone learns to love one another, regardless of their religion or anything else about them.

After about two weeks, Castiel began shaking uncontrollably, eyes still closed and even as Raphael tried everything he could, shouting orders at the other healers, there was nothing that could be done. “I... I'll be outside, I can't watch,” Gabriel told Lucifer, but Lucifer kept his eyes glued to Castiel's little body as the light slowly faded from inside of him.

“Father... Dad... please... don't do this. Not to Cas... He's too young, he doesn't deserve this. Please, Dad, save him,” Lucifer prayed for the first time since his Fall, begging with everything in him for his Father to save the boy he'd abandoned, albeit unintentionally. He hit his knees hard, too shaky to be able to stay upright, but disguising it as a sign of respect. All pride and anger at his Father left him, as he lowered himself to accept that his Father was powerful and that this would be what Castiel wanted.

However, even as he prayed, nothing stopped the grace from weakening and flickering dangerously. Michael was outside, comforting Gabriel who was slumped on the ground, shaken. It lasted too long, but yet, not long enough, and soon, Castiel stopped shaking completely and stilled. The remaining light that ebbed from his open yet unseeing eyes died, and his eyes closed as he took his last breath. “He's... gone,” Raphael breathed after checking for a pulse and breath, finding neither. 

Lucifer forced himself to nod, biting the inside of his cheek as he tried to breathe normally without breaking down. Raphael left the room to tell the other two, and then the other Angels, that their youngest warrior was gone. Everyone soon left, and the two Archangels shuffled in, neither talking to Lucifer, knowing that he needed his time. “I caused this,” Lucifer told them monotonously, and Gabriel wanted to tell him that that wasn't true, but didn't.

“No,” Michael responded, “we all did. I cast him out, didn't assign him a new guardian... If anything, I caused this more than you did.”

“He told me not to fight, Michael! I should have listened, done something good for a change.”

Silence ensued, until Gabriel broke it. “I don't think Castiel would have wanted any of us to blame ourselves. He fixed our family, at least he'll be remembered forever as the good angel he was, like he wanted. Maybe, Father will even come back, since we've all grown up considerably thanks to him.”

“I'm pretty sure Father wouldn't want to see me, after everything that's happened, Gabriel. If anything, He'll kill me, which I''ll gladly accept at this point. I'd take death if He'd just bring Castiel back to life.”

“That won't be necessary,” a voice boomed, as blinding white light filled the room, and the three angels immediately fell to their knees out of instinct. Only their Father would shine so brightly, and when the light faded, there stood an average-looking man with dark hair and eyes so extravagantly blue that only Castiel's own eyes could rival. “Hello, my children.”

“Father!” Michael exclaimed in awe, smiling, as Lucifer refused to look up, afraid and ashamed. Gabriel looked up, grinning as he realized that their Father hadn't abandoned them, and they could be a family again.

“Hello, Michael, Gabriel...” God paused as he looked at Lucifer's kneeling form, feeling the sorrow and grief that rolled through him, as he feared being kicked out of the family again. “Lucifer, how have you been?”

“I've been fine,” Lucifer replied shakily, head bowed, flinching as his Father laid His hand on his shoulder.

“Stand up, Lucifer. You two as well,” God told them gently, looking into the blue eyes that seemed almost dead inside. He could see the pain inside of the young man in front of him, and He could see the regret and desire to be killed, believing he deserved it. “You don't deserve death, Lucifer,” God softly told Lucifer, but knew that the boy didn't believe Him. “I've forgiven you since you came home, knowing full-well that they could have killed you. You're forgiven for everything now; welcome Home, my son.”

Lucifer's eyes stung as he embraced his Father, feeling cleansed of sin and safe in the embrace. Michael smiled, as did Gabriel, knowing that their brother deserved to be forgiven. God pulled away from Lucifer, and turned to the other two. “Michael, you obeyed me, but forgot that I wanted everything to be by one's own free will. Obedience isn't as important as morality, my son,” God told Michael, who bowed his head, but looked up when God touched him. “Thank you anyways, you were doing what you could with the circumstances.”

Then, He turned to the youngest Archangel, Gabriel. “Gabriel... or should I call you The Trickster, now?” He smiled, and Gabriel grinned back, “You died following my orders to love the humans, and for that, I thank you. I understand when you left after Lucifer's Fall, and I will never hold that against you. Welcome Home to you as well, Gabriel.”

The three felt peaceful, which was a welcome feeling after the chaotic war. God walked over to Castiel's lifeless body, placing His hand on the boy's head, smiling. He turned back to the three, “how would you feel about a new Archangel?” They all nodded vehemently, and God smiled softly, before turning back to Castiel. “Castiel, my son, wake now, restored and repaired.”

Castiel's eyes opened, and he lifted is hand to wipe his eyes, before seeing where he was, but not immediately recognizing their Father. “Are you... God?” Castiel's high-pitched voice asked, and the three smiled, unused to it after hearing his deep, gravelly voice for so long.

“Yes, Castiel,” God answered, amused as Castiel scrambled clumsily to get on his knees. He placed a hand on Castiel's shoulder, stopping him. “There's no need for that, Castiel. How do you feel?”

“I feel tingly, but stronger than before,” Castiel said, and God nodded.

“You've been promoted to a higher rank; you're an Archangel now. The tingly feeling should leave in a day or two. Do you boys mind giving us some time to... catch up?” God asked, and the three quickly left to give the two some privacy. “Castiel, I think it's time we talk.”

“I'm sorry,” Castiel softly responded, averting his eyes as his shoulders drooped.

“For what?”

“I disobeyed Michael and went against your orders. I fought against the Angels, and was cast out,” Castiel told God, who only made a hmm sound as Castiel confessed his 'sins'. “I was a disgrace to Heaven, I deserved to be cast out, everyone should be ashamed of me, I-”

“Castiel, that's enough,” God cut in, brooking no room for argument. “You are not a disgrace, you only obeyed my orders to love the humans and encourage free will. You didn't deserve to be cast out; yes, you made mistakes, but I forgive you. I am not ashamed of you, and I will be very disappointed if anyone is. You're a child, Castiel, but you had to take on the responsibility that not even Michael could handle.”

Castiel nodded through teary eyes, smiling, and God picked Castiel up and hugged him. “Of course, you did also call me a... son of a bitch, was it?” God chuckled as Castiel shifted uncomfortably, blushing slightly.

“I... yes, I did. I'm sorry,” Castiel awkwardly replied, to which God smiled. “How's Dean? And Sam? What will happen now?”

“The demons have been destroyed, save a few. I think their time as a hunter should be easier now, with Heaven in peace, only ghosts or the occasional wolf or vampire to fight. Of course, you'll still be by their side if you so wish, but you also have a home, right here in Heaven. It saddens me that your first and true home was made unavailable to you for your loyalty, and your resistance to doing things that will harm those you care about. That is bravery, my son, it's to stand up for what you believe in, even if the others forsake you for your beliefs.”


	2. Sam, Dean and Crowley Babysit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel no longer has Jimmy Novak's emotional defenses to help him deal with his own emotions, and gets pretty emotional and temperamental. With no self esteem, a big imagination and an uncomfortable past, it's hard for someone who is still a toddler to deal with things maturely.

“I don't know, I'm just worried for him, man. Who _knows_ what those dick-bags are doing to him!” Dean yelled, nearly empty beer bottle in hand, surrounded by other empty bottles, as he and Sam tried to figure out why the demons were laying low.

“I would agree with you all the way, but the way they looked, they looked like they really cared, Dean. They abandoned the Apocalypse, revived Bobby and gave us our lives back, for Cas. Maybe they care about Cas, enough to stop this prophesied battle, anyway,” Sam tried to logic with Dean, but he saw how stressed Dean had been since the confrontation. Granted, Sam didn't have to hold Cas' bleeding form in his arms as the man writhed and screamed, but Sam was worried for Dean. Sam just wished that Dean would stop blaming himself for not being able to stop Cas in time, or even noticing that Cas was quieter and anxious before the confrontation. Even if he had, no one could have known what Cas had in mind. 

“Maybe,” Dean murmured, taking a swig of his alcohol, and a flutter of wings signaled that two Angels had arrived. The brothers turned to face the Arch-Angel and... a miniature Angel wearing a trench-coat, asleep in the elder ones arms. “Gabriel, is that-”

“Cassie, yes, it is. We need you two to watch over him for a while, there's a situation in Heaven right now. Here,” he hurriedly tossed an iron wrist cuff onto the couch next to Sam, “if he tries to fly away, slap this on his wrist. It'll blunt his Grace, and make him incapable of flying away but he'll still have his wings. He gets hurt, and I'll set Luci on your ass. Thanks.”

With that, Gabriel was gone, nudging Cas awake and placing him on his feet. Dean stared at Cas, who was now a mere 3 feet. “Cas?” Dean blurted out, before he suddenly remembered that before Michael had grabbed the Angel from his hands, Cas had glowed, turning into a child. A pretty big detail to forget, but the thing he'd been focused on were 'Castiel', 'dying', and 'dragged back to heaven by the devil and the asshole that was going to begin the apocalypse'. Cas now seemed very vulnerable, not like he was a fierce guardian Angel that dragged Dean's ass out of Hell and was happy to bleed for the Winchester's again and again.

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel responded, his voice much higher, and Sam... well, Sam couldn't hold it in anymore. He busted out laughing, and Dean gave him the classic Winchester bitch-face, causing him to shake his head as he left the room.

“What the hell _happened_ , Cas? I leave for ten minutes, come back and you're _dying_! Why the hell are you so small?” Dean finally let out some steam, and felt half-bad when Cas almost seemed hurt and afraid for a moment before assuming his blank face again, which was even more disturbing on the face of a kid.

“I performed a ritual that would unite Heaven, and it required the blood of an Angel who'd been cast out for it to work. My vessel is under construction, hence my current state,” Cas responded, picking a piece of lint off of his coat, before looking up at Dean, who now seemed very tall. 

“How did you survive? Who's this current vessel of yours?” Dean asked, not sure which questions to ask first.

“I almost didn't, that's why it took me a long time to respond, but Father is back, Dean! He healed me, and made me stronger than I've ever been. I'm an Arch-Angel, now,” Cas responded, excited about being as strong as his guardian, “this isn't a vessel, this is my... body. On that... day, my Grace was fading and my cloaking fell, this became a body that I could use on Earth, somehow. It doesn't help me feel any _stronger_ , though, being so small compared to everyone else.”

“You're... a toddler?!”

“I am still older than you by centuries, Dean,” Cas scowled, and Dean ended up laughing, as Sam walked in, now calm. Cas turned to face him, nodding in acknowledgment.

“So, Sammy, apparently, Cas is a baby Angel. An _actual_ baby in a trench-coat,” Dean told Sam, who grinned as he took his seat again on the couch, whereas Dean was sitting at the table, bottle of beer untouched.

“Hello, boys,” Crowley said, before turning his attention to the Angel, “and who are you, munchkin?” Crowley grinned darkly, and Cas stepped back, afraid for a moment. Height was not on his side, everything was much bigger than he was used to, and it was off-putting, now more so than ever with the King of Hell staring him in the eye.

“D-Dean,” Cas stammered, all the while trying to keep a straight face, trying to appear braver than he felt. Dean stood, a protective urge rising in him like it always did for Cas and Sam.

“Back off, Crowley,” Dean almost growled, and the man only smiled back, bathing in their fear and anger.

“It seems we have a fledgling Angel in our midst, Squirrel. Judging by the hideous trench-coat and stunning blue eyes, I'd say that this little Angel is our beloved Castiel. Is that right?” Crowley bent to look at the Angel, who stared back at him intently, as Dean sighed.

“Yes, it's Cas. What do you need?” Dean snapped impatiently, and Cas looked up at him for a moment, and Dean realized, amused, that Cas barely made it to his hips.

“That's no way to treat a guest, now is it? I came to inform you that Hell's been transformed to be less fire and torture, more of a rehabilitation facility. They send souls there to be reformed, and the evilest bastards have been destroyed by Lucifer, hence the quiet from us recently,” Crowley told them as he looked around, walking and picking up a book on demons with a disgusting portrayal of them on the cover. Which was _totally_ inaccurate, to say the least.

“You came all the way here just to tell us that Hell is no longer Hell? Why?” Sam asked, voicing the question that Dean also had.

“So that you don't kill the few good demons I have _left_! They die and then who will serve me mindlessly?  _You two_?” Crowley snapped back, standing animatedly.

“Lucifer can create more demons, he did give you power and keep you alive,” Cas butted in, and the King of Hell sneered at the memory of being threatened and nearly obliterated by the Arch-Angel.

“Barely,” Crowley scoffed, before Cas straightened and looked up, listening to something only he can hear. The adults all noticed his sudden silence and the squint of his eyes, as he focused intently to the loud voices; some muffled, others clear, like broken fragments of crystal.

“They're fighting,” he told them quietly, sounding small and sad, as he averted his eyes from them, “I need to help them,” he whispered to them, turning to fly away, but Dean grasped his wrist.

“I can't let you do that, Cas,” Dean told him softly, and Sam grabbed the metal wrist cuff without alerting Cas, and Crowley merely stood by, observing the young Angel and the two hunters. Cas turned his blue eyes, young and unguarded, so unlike his old ones which showed nothing but strength and weariness, to Dean's green eyes. “Gabriel told me to keep you here, that's probably best for now, Cas.”

Sam had managed to sneak in from behind the two, with Cas facing Dean and Crowley. Cas began to struggle away from Dean, pushing with his small, pale hands at Dean's large, hardened ones. “Dean, I want to go home. I _have_ to go home!” Cas begged, beginning to get agitated, not really understanding why he felt the way he did, perhaps it was the fact that he was no longer in a vessel, and no longer had Jimmy's old emotional defenses to help him deal with his own. The lights started to flicker, and a bottle of whiskey in the kitchen exploded like fireworks, as Cas' eyes began welling with tears.

As thunder roared, Sam put the cuff around Cas' wrist, the one Dean wasn't holding. The lights stopped flickering, the weather stabilized, but no one noticed as Cas stilled, turning his eyes that showed betrayal and fear to Sam. He immediately tried to fly away, but nothing happened, aside for him appearing maybe a few feet away at the most. “No,” he whispered, the tears falling down his face. “Dean!”

“Hey, come on, kiddo. It's going to be okay,” Dean tried to comfort, reaching out for the distraught Angel, but Cas backed away from all of them. He was terrified, alone and now, powerless and incapable of doing anything about it. Even Crowley had to admit that the boy looked so utterly young and afraid, vulnerable, even. This was his first time being powerless, small and not in control of his emotions. Crowley looked to the two hunters, who seemed at a lost for what to do, and he rolled his eyes at the two morons.

“I want to go home! What did you do?!” Cas yelled at them hysterically, trying to tear at the iron bracelet, clawing at it until his fingers were red and Dean grabbed his wrists. Cas was shaking, looking at Dean for a moment, making intense eye-contact as he had always done. Dean slowly let go of the toddler, but instantly regretted it as Cas turned on his heel and ran as fast as his feet would carry him.

“Godda-” Dean started, going to run after he boy, frustrated, when Sam stopped him.

“Leave him alone for a while, maybe he just needs to get used to being a human,” Sam advised Sam and Dean nodded, listening to Sam's voice of reason. “I have to go out though, we need to get some groceries and some pills for my head-ache, you want something other than pie?” Sam mocked lightly, smiling softly.

“Just pie and more beer, we're running low on our fuel! Can't run out of fuel, Sammy,” Dean joked back, smiling stupidly.

“Your fuel, Dean, not mine. I actually believe in healthy ways of dealing with my emotions, instead of drowning myself in alcohol,” Sam shook his head at Dean's retort of "pansy-ass", grabbing his coat as he walked toward the door, and Crowley decided to follow him as well. “You're coming, Crowley?”

“May as well, I have something else to talk to you about,” Crowley offered as an explanation, and Sam just shrugged. One day you're trying to kill the demons, next you're going grocery shopping with them, what an odd world they lived in.

Dean looked at the clock, it was 4:28 pm, and he decided to get some rest, since he hadn't been sleeping and was actually quite tired, now that he knew everything was safe. He laid down onto the couch, covering his eyes with his arm, and soon after, he was asleep, dreaming peacefully of driving along a road that didn't seem to end.

Meanwhile, Cas had found comfort inside of a closet, taking off his trench-coat as he trembled and sobbed. He wanted Luci, he wanted Father, he wanted anyone that could give him his powers back, or at least tell him that Heaven was going to be okay. Where was Dean? Or, more importantly, why was he feeling pressure in his lower abdomen? _How do humans live like this?_ “Dean?” He called out softly, starting to panic as the pressure grew and it became hard to sit still, but no answer came. “Dean!” His voice shook as he yelled, but Dean was in a slumber not to be interrupted. What was he supposed to do? Okay, maybe this will pass, like when his Grace would pulse while it repaired itself. This must be the human alternative that would help his body repair itself.

He found out a while after that his body wasn't repairing itself, it was _relieving_ itself. He felt disgusted as the wet spot in his crotch area grew and left a puddle on the floor beneath him. _You're disgusting,_ he told himself, beginning to sob harder. He stuck his fist into his mouth and bit down as hard as he could, trying to silence himself but failing, like he failed at being an Angel and at being a human. He ended falling asleep, unsheathing his wings and wrapping them around himself, dreams of wandering Heaven alone after Lucifer was cast out and Gabriel left, with Michael too busy and Raphael mainly uncaring. Cold, afraid, confused, much like he felt now.

Dean woke up when the two men came back, at 7:44 pm, and he rubbed his eyes groggily. “Hey, sorry we took so long, Dean. I got Cas some clothes and a few things to entertain him, and a couple- Dean, where _is_ Cas?” Sam asked, realizing that Cas was nowhere to be seen, his brother seemed to have just been woken up from a deep sleep with three empty bottles of beer next to him. Dean's eyes snapped up to Sam's for a second, before he got up and grabbed his knife, just in case.

“Shit!” Dean cursed as he and the other two started to look for the small child, who had been left alone for about 3 hours now. “Cas! Cas, come out, kid!”

_Dammit, I had to watch over one powerless Angel, one that trusted me, and I still managed to fuck that up. Where could that kid even **be**?_

“Cas?!” Sam was looking around the rather large house that belonged to Bobby, who was currently out, working a case with some hunter. “Cas, buddy, please come out.”

They all searched for about 10 minutes, with Dean going out to the garage and yard, Sam searching from the basement to the first floor, and Crowley had the top floors.

“Bloody _imbecile_ , can't even trust him to take care of a friggin' _kid_ that has no powers. You'd expect that from _me_ , _the King of actual Hell_! But _no_ , it's Dean friggin' Winchester, the Righteous _Moron_ that left the one who rescued him from Hell unsupervised as a _toddler_!” Crowley muttered to himself, angry. He was annoyed, and that was it, he was most certainly **not** concerned for the welfare of a stupid trench-coated Angel.

In the end, it was Crowley that found the little Angel, curled up inside of a closet, covered in his own urine. It was a pitiful sight, that a powerful Angel of the Lord was alone and afraid for hours as he cried, not understanding human bodily functions or why he had no powers. “Castiel?” Crowley tentatively asked, reaching out to touch the boy's shoulder with a hand that hadn't touched another living person without the intent to hurt them in years.

The boy's blue eyes opened, and he quickly shrunk back, fear and hurt still laced his eyes. “It's... okay, Castiel. I won't hurt you, come here,” Crowley softly told him, walking back and offering his hands. Cas slowly got up, cold and hungry now, not wanting to trust the demon, but finding him more trustworthy than Sam and Dean were at the moment. He grabbed his trench and walked out of the closet toward Crowley, and Crowley smiled softly at him. He snapped and the mess on the floor was cleaned, and Cas was dry, but not exactly clean.

Cas walked up to where Crowley was half-crouching, half-kneeling, and Crowley scooped the boy into his arms. Warm, Crowley realized, he felt warm. The boy buried his head in Crowley's shoulder, fists curling around the black suit as he found comfort in the one he'd initially feared. “We'll give you a bath later on, Castiel, after food, perhaps. Are you hungry?” Crowley drawled, half talking to himself as Cas stayed silent, only nodding at the question. He walked downstairs, where he saw Moose first, who then ran to inform the useless Squirrel that their winged toddler was found.

“Cas! Where the hell were you?!” Was the first thing that left Dean's mouth, walking towards the Angel, but stopping when he noticed Cas flinch and clench his fists around Crowley's coat as if he were holding onto a life-line. “Cas? I'm sorry, Cas, I didn't mean to leave you alone like that. I fell asleep, and I thought you just needed time. I'm sorry, man.”

“And you bloody well should be! Do you have any idea how I found him? He was asleep in a pool of his own urine, after he cried himself out,” Crowley told the elder Winchester what he'd seen after Cas unintentionally projected to Crowley when he'd held onto the demon, and Dean looked down in shame, the reality of his failure hitting him like a punch to the gut. “He was forcing himself to be quiet and had no clue about how human bodies worked or why he needed to pee or why there was nobody there!”

“Cas... is that true? Why didn't you come to me, man? I would have helped you,” Dean told Castiel, realizing that Cas was afraid of something Dean should have been there to teach him about, and Cas knew that. He knew that Dean would help, didn't he? “Cas?”

“Raphael didn't want me bothering him when Luci and Gabe were gone, said I deserved to be 'lone,” Cas softly replied, turning his red-rimmed eyes toward Dean sadly, but not because of how he was treated. No, in true Castiel fashion, he was sad because he believed that he truly did deserve it, and obviously still believed it.

“Well, Raphael's clearly not a good brother,” Sam told Cas, who turned his eyes toward the taller brother. “But Dean, he would never say that or believe that for a second, that you deserve to be alone. When I was young like you, I used to wet the bed all the time, and he would help me deal with it. He'd change the sheets, put me in a bath and then make sure I wasn't scared or ashamed anymore.”

“Young like you my ass, Sammy. You were at least 9 when you stopped wetting the bed,” Dean lightly joked, and it worked, Cas giving a soft smile. “Now, you hungry? I am, anyone else?”

“I bought some salad, mac and cheese, microwavable hot wings, corn dogs, burritos, chips, fries, fruit snacks and some peanut butter,” Sam listed off, sorting through the bags.

“Sam?”

“Yeah?”

“Did you forget the pie?” Dean asked, looking like he was about to knock Sammy into next week, and in a snap of his fingers, Crowley had conjured an apple pie, placing it onto the table. “That's awesome, man! Cas, what do you wanna eat?”

“I... don't know?” Cas responded, more of a question than an answer, not knowing how anything tasted.

“Right, so let's try the corn dog and mac and cheese; that good for you, kiddo?” Dean asked, and Cas nodded, as Crowley lowered him onto the seat, which was still too low for him to see the top of the table. They quickly made the food and each of them had something in front of them. Dean of course, had his pie and hot wings, along with some fries. Sam had salad, as usual, and Cas just ate what he wanted to eat. Crowley had some hot wings, eating them like they were nothing, and some mac and cheese. Cas found out that he rather liked the mac and cheese, hated the hot wings-he learned the hard way- and loved the fruit snacks.

“So, Crowley, when did you get so good with kids?” Sam asked jokingly, as he took note of the fact that Cas was now on the demon's lap, shoving some fries in the older ones mouth. “Looks to me like Cas likes you.”

“I've had to take care of a few kids in my existence, Moose. Sometimes, my demons get antsy for souls and some unsuspecting kid ends up in Hell or with a time limit,” Crowley told Sam, shocking the brothers that a child had gone to Hell.

“Why were they in Hell?” Sam asked, confused about a kid selling their soul.

“He wasn't being treated very kindly at home, to say the least, and sold his soul for a 'friend' or for someone to protect him from his parents. Some demon took the deal, and I would have voided the deal, but I didn't want to leave him there. I took him in, punished the parents and took care of the boy for a while. I think he was about 5 or 6 when I took him in, and he stayed with me for about two years. I took a girl in as well, quite some time after him, and she was an orphan that just wanted to have a father. She stayed with me for about 5 years, and I voided the deal when I learned she was sick.”

“Did you torture them?” Dean asked, hoping that Crowley didn't, but suspicious nonetheless.

“I'm not that evil, Squirrel. Of course not, I was rather fond of those two. Jackson and Pearl were quite fond of me as well, following me everywhere,” Crowley remembered, smiling at the memory.  


“What happened to them?”

“Jackson died before I could void the deal, so I just gave him a position of power, training him and shaping him to be a decent demon. Pearl had died of cancer, and went to Heaven once I voided the deal. Being a father is much harder than I'd expected, with the crying and tantrums, but I like to think that I wasn't as bad as their previous caretakers.”

“Wow,” was all Dean could say, surprised that the demon had a decent bone in him. They all noticed that they were finished, and Cas was just making art out of the fries and sauces now, in between scratching at his thighs. Dean took the Angel to get cleaned up and the other two set upon cleaning the kitchen up. Guiding Cas on washing his hands with soap and water, Dean smiled as Cas learned about the wonders of bubbles. “So Cas, we good now?”

Castiel nodded, dark hair bobbing as Dean tried to wipe off the piece of pie that somehow made its way into the boy's hair. “I believe so,” he responded, and Dean smiled, mussing up his hair.

“Come on, Sam got you some stuff, let's see what he got,” Dean told Cas, pulling him along, and they entered the living room once again, where Crowley was seated on the couch with a cup of whiskey in his hand.

“Here, Cas, pick out what you wanna play with,” Sam told Cas, pointing to the coffee table that numerous toys and playthings were on, organized by type of toy. Cas walked over to the table reluctantly, unsure about what any of this was; last time he'd played with a toy was before Lucifer's fall, when he was a mere fledgling. The first thing that attracted his attention was the rainbow xylophone, and he struck the bars, listening to the sounds.

A smile played on his lips as he struck the bars again and again, sitting on the carpet cross-legged, in front of the couch that faced the TV. Sam put in a DVD of Frozen, and soon, the four of them were entrenched in the movie. Cas grabbed a stuffed bee, and crawled onto the couch, in between Dean and Crowley. Castiel constantly made comments on the movie, and Dean watched, in spite of some comments questioning Sam's masculinity for choosing the movie.

“She didn't mean to hurt Anna, she shouldn't have to hide her powers!”

“Yeah, I know, Cas. The parents are so uncool, like Sam is,” Dean responded to him, smiling as Sam shoved him playfully.

“Their parents died? Why?”

“It's just a movie, man,” Sam told him.

“Love is an open doooooor!”

“Oh, good Lord,” Crowley rolled his eyes, but smiled nonetheless at the Angel's singing.

“Oh no...Dean...”

“It's okay, Cas... They'll get her back to Arendelle. Right Samantha?” Dean asked, really wishing that they wouldn't have to deal with a tantrum caused by a stupid Disney movie.

“Sam!”

“Elsa's okay, a falling chandelier doesn't do much damage, surprisingly.”

“She's dying. She's going to die. Deaaaaaaaaan, she's going to die!”

“Shhh! Watch!” Dean shushed, leaning forward as he focused on the screen, with Castiel following suit. Masculinity be damned.

“'ey, she didn't die! It's true love, Elsa fixed it! They get a happy ending!”

As the film ended, the three adults noticed that the Angel wasn't tired at all, and in fact seemed to be filled with energy. It was now 10:12, but the boy wasn't showing any signs of exhaustion or fatigue, but he did seem very itchy. He got off the couch, and walked back to the coffee table, analyzing everything. He walked to to the bag next to the table and looked inside, finding a kickball. He took it out and started to bounce it, before he started to run around with it. “Cas! No running!”

“Exactly how much pie did that boy have?” Crowley asked Dean, who realized that he may have given the Angel more than he should have eaten. Sam chuckled lightly, shaking his head and getting the DVD out, as he turned the TV off.

“Well, I'm going to head to sleep, you two take care of him, alright?” Sam told them as he turned quickly and left.

“Wait, Sam! He needs a bath!”

“Profound bond, Dean!” Sam retorted, closing the door and locking it as he surrendered to sweet oblivion.

"Well, it seems that Squirrel is going to be giving darling Angel a bath. Have fun,” Crowley told him, standing as well.

“And where the hell are you going?”

“Hell, maybe. Possibly California. Perhaps China. I don't know, I'll go where I want to go. Goodbye, Dean-o,” Crowley told him, preparing to leave as he felt a hand hold onto his slacks. Dammit. “Castiel?”

“Don't go, please,” Castiel told him, unknowingly using his puppy-dog eyes as he told the demon to stay. Crowley looked at Dean, who smirked in triumph, and was stuck between maintaining his image and leaving or staying and seeming soft. Cas seemed intent on using him like a jungle gym, climbing by pulling and grabbing his suit. “Stay, 'ley, we can play.”

“Fine, I'll stay, but if you rip my suit in any way, I'll smack you stupid,” Crowley agreed, but followed up with an empty threat, to not seem too soft. Dean scoffed, and Crowley sent him flying onto his ass, smiling as Dean yelled out in surprise.

“Well anyway, asshat, you give him a bath, I'll prepare his clothes and whatever he needs. Good luck,” Dean shoved the demon lightly, walking off to organize the boy's nighttime wear, as the demon walked over to their bathroom.

“Right, so Wings, have you ever had a bath before?” Crowley asked, as he got a large fluffy towel and some shampoo for children. He turned the tap on after snapping and cleaning the insides of the tub, and put the plug in.

“No,” Castiel responded, looking at the tub that slowly filled with water. The older man looked at him, as he stared at the water, fascinated and calmed by it.

“Well, take off your clothes so you can be washed properly and get in the tub,” Crowley told him, as he turned the tap off and snapped his fingers, making the bath have some bubbles. Cas fumbled around with the buttons on his pants, but managed to shimmy out of them. Afterwards, he took off the trench-coat and the light red shirt beneath it, left in only his boxer briefs. “Those too,” he told the Angel, who immediately complied.

Once done undressing, Cas was put into the tub, where his wings came into view, black and majestic even as they were quite small, being only 2 feet across each. Crowley raised a brow, surprised that the boy had trusted him enough to show his wings, an easy way to hurt him. “They're sticky and messy,” the boy explained, flapping them softly as he played with the rubber duck.

They worked quietly, with Crowley washing his hair and rubbing him clean, and Cas sitting calmly, relaxed and soothed by the warm water and bubbles. After cleaning and fixing Cas' feathers, Crowley decided that bathtime was over. “Okay, come on, it's time to dry off and get to bed.”

“No.”

“Excuse me?” Crowley responded, surprised by the sudden defiance, a spark of anger and annoyance spiking, him being so tired.

“I like it here.”

“Castiel, come out of there, you need to go to bed,” Crowley ordered, but Cas remained seated, “Castiel, if you do not obey me, I will lock you in a room and-”

That got Castiel's attention, his wings vanishing and eyes snapping up for a second, showing unfiltered fear, before he averted them. “I'm sorry,” he whispered shakily, and he blinked away the burn in his eyes. He stood up, going to leave the tub now, but Crowley knew that something had been triggered in the boy's head.

“Are you okay?” He asked, but Cas just nodded, and so Crowley decided to let it go, handing him a towel to dry himself off and leading him to the room Dean had prepared his clothes in.

“Hey, kid. Your clothes are on the bed, so yeah. My room is across from yours, so just knock if you need me, alright?” Dean asked, looking up from the text he'd been reading. Castiel nodded, a bit more withdrawn than he was when he went to take a bath, but Dean, tired and sleepy again, chalked it up to Cas being tired as well. He got up and ruffled the boy's hair before turning to Crowley. “There's an empty room at the end of the hall if you're staying, so just don't touch anything or I'll kick your ass.”

Crowley quickly dressed Castiel, putting a diaper on him since he wasn't used to using the toilet yet, and pajamas that had moons and stars all over them, with a purple childish unicorn in the middle. It made no sense, but it was soft and fuzzy, and Castiel liked that. “Goodnight,” Crowley said, placing Cas on the bed and closing the door behind him as he left. Cas crawled underneath the covers, resting his head onto the pillow, and looked around.

It was dark, and once again, cold, and Castiel tried to tell himself that there was nothing there, but he was actually nervous, crazy as that sounded. _I am an Angel, I should not be afraid of anything,_ he told himself mentally, but he was powerless, so he wasn't technically an Angel at the moment, was he? He was a human, a useless mortal that wouldn't be able to protect himself, given his height and age. If he couldn't even unbutton his jeans, how could he fight against a rogue demon, or a vampire, or maybe even a bad human?

Was _he_ a bad human? He had killed, he had hurt others, he had done horrible things on the orders of his superiors. Doesn't that make him a bad human? What would Dean do if he found out? Or Lucifer? Would he get thrown into the pit, too? He did rebel too, didn't he? Wouldn't he deserve it?

 _Father said he forgave you. He would protect you._ He fought with himself internally, one side believing that he deserved to be thrown in the pit and the other not wanting to believe that nobody would stop that from happening. _Unless if he leaves again, or if Lucifer decides to do it. He is your guardian, isn't he?_

_Lucifer wouldn't do that, he's-_

_The Devil. He doesn't care about you, you're worthless to him like you are to everybody else. You're a bad Angel._

“No,” Castiel whispered to himself, the rumble of Angel voices replaced by his own internal conflict. This scared him, not being able to control it, or turn it off like he could the Angel radio. The darkness, the cold empty room, and the feeling of desolation and desperation reminded him painfully of Hell, of the Pit. His older brothers and sisters would talk about the pit in hushed tones, and sometimes he would hear them talking about the torture and the pain someone went through in Hell. It scared him to know his Guardian may be experiencing that, but would he soon experience it as well? The thoughts circled and danced around his head, the image of what he'd seen in Hell stuck in his head, and he felt his heart threatening to break one of his ribs.

Castiel sat up, grabbing the stuffed bee from the side of his bed, and hugged it to his body tightly.

Can Crowley send you to the Pit? That's what made him think, that someone so close to him at the moment could very well send him there right now. He had threatened to lock him away, but did he mean the Pit? What if Crowley came in while he was sleeping? He looked at the clock, and it was now nearing 3 in the morning. He hesitantly stood up, stopping in front of the door, but he forced himself to keep going anyway. Sam's room was locked, Crowley may be trying to kill him, and Bobby was gone; that left only Dean available, unless if he wanted to run away or sleep in the living room.

But what if Dean also wanted him dead? What if they all worked together to send him to Hell? He stopped, in the middle of the dimly lit hallway, his fears and imaginations blending to make him unsure of who to trust. He quietly padded back to his room, closing the door softly behind him and finding his way into the closet. He got the blanket, sheets and pillows and made a nest in the closet, before he buried himself in the sheets and closed his eyes. _Brothers_? He tried to call them, but received no response, and so he fearfully forced himself to sleep.

Dean awoke at around 4 in the morning to the sounds of screaming, ones that reminded him painfully of the ones he'd heard at the grave-yard. His hands grabbed for his gun and he ran towards the source of the sound, which was Cas' room. He entered, flicking on the light, and he was scared for a moment when he didn't see Cas in his bed, but he saw the closet to the door open. He opened it to see Cas thrashing around, tangled in the sheets, and sweating profusely. He was screaming in a language that Dean didn't understand, and it wasn't long before Crowley made his way into the room.

“Enochian,” Crowley breathed, pausing at what he was hearing come from the boy's mouth. It was now that Crowley regretted learning the damned language, and Dean worked on waking up the boy, shaking his shoulder and talking to him calmly.

“Hey, come on, Cas, wake up, it's just a bad dream, buddy. Come on, wake up for me, will ya?” Dean told the boy, who gasped awake, trembling as his face crumpled and he buried his face in his pillows. “Hey, it's okay,” Dean soothed, rubbing the boy's back, and pulling him closer, until he was in Dean's arms, head buried in his neck. Dean stood, rocking the boy from side to side as he hummed a song that he couldn't remember the lyrics to, just the tune. Cas stayed sobbing, the images and scenarios stuck in his head, he put his fist into his mouth, biting down hard enough to draw blood.

“Hey, hey! None of that now,” Crowley hurriedly stopped him, pulling his hand away from his mouth. Cas only got more upset, squirming and digging his nails down his arms, needing to know he was awake, desperate to feel, to be sure that he was no longer dreaming. Cas' first and second knuckles bled, as well as bright red scratch marks left where he ran his nails through his arms.

“Dammit. Cas! Cas, calm down, it's okay, you're awake!” Dean set Cas down on the bed, shaking his shoulders again. “Look at me, Cas. Can you feel this?” He asked, squeezing Cas' hand, but Cas was inconsolable. He remained screaming in a language that Dean didn't understand, and Crowley didn't have it in him to tell Dean what Castiel was saying. He held onto Cas' wrists gently but firmly, trying to prevent him from hurting himself.

Castiel was in full meltdown mode, sobbing hysterically as he yelled out for his brothers and Father, trying to claw at himself and bite his hands. Dean struggled to keep a hold on the thrashing child, and Crowley tried to calm him with words, some Enochian and other English. They thought it would never end, until a bright light cloaked the room for a second, and faded, showing a man standing at the door. He had short dark blond hair, a black low-cut V-neck and light blue eyes, as well as a scowl on his face. He looked older than Castiel's vessel was, and was maybe a bit taller than Jimmy Novak was; he certainly didn't have Cas' pleasant and awkward demeanor. “Good Lord, can't you people take care of a child?” He spoke with an accent, rolling his eyes and coming closer. “Cassie, what's wrong?”

Castiel stayed there, sobbing, eyes shut and he shook and thrashed. “He's terrified, and he keeps talking about the Pit. Who the hell told him about the bloody Pit?” The blond man asked, scanning the two men, annoyed and a bit alarmed. “Shh, it's okay, darling,” he shushed, pulling the Angel to his chest, muttering in Enochian calming words. Castiel started to calm down, knowing that his brother -wouldn't send him there, not Balthazar. He clung to the older Angel tightly, not wanting to go back to Hell, not now, not ever.

Balthazar rocked him from side to side, using a hint of Grace to calm him down with touch. He rubbed Cas' back, where he knew the boy's wings were, and just stayed there, comforting. “No one is going to the Pit, no one will be sent anywhere even remotely close to Hell. Why do you think you're going?” Balthazar asked when Castiel was considerably calmer, with only the occasional silent tear and sniffle.

“Was bad. If Luci found out, he'll send me 'way too,” Cas mumbled after he was calmer, with only exhaustion and emptiness left where the terror was previously.

“How were you bad?”

“How was I good? No one wants me, no one ever will, Brother. Father shouldn't have brought me back,” he responded, sounding much older than he should have sounded with his resigned tone and defeated eyes.

“Well, I know you chose love over obedience, stood up to what you felt was wrong. You saved the Winchester's and died for it as well. You suffered for them, bled for them, was cast out for them. You chose free will over destiny, and saved countless lives with your selfless sacrifice. I've heard about everything you did, Cas, how you suffered for weeks, as your Grace was ripped out of you. You chose to do that, because you just wanted peace. I admire that, Cas,” Balthazar told him calmly, saddened by Cas' non-existent self esteem. “I also know that the Winchester's do want you, they love you even, as family and... friend. I love you, Lucifer loves you, Father loves you and Gabriel loves you. Even this bastard over here seems to be rather fond of you.”

Crowley nodded, confirming that he did rather like the boy now. “It's true, Castiel; I won't send you to the Pit. I rather enjoy your company.”

“None of us want you gone, Cas, we love that you're here, and that we know you're safe. We're family, Cas,” Dean told him sincerely, and Cas looked into his eyes, intensely analyzing Dean's intentions, and nodded, satisfied. He let out a breath, slumping tiredly into Balthazar, fear not gone but not taking control. “I'd be devastated if you died, man. I'd have hated myself for not being able to notice that you were planning something. I did, for a while, but you're okay now, and I'm okay now, and thank God for that.”

“Thank God indeed,” Balthazar smiled softly, looking at Castiel with love and adoration in his eyes.

“How's Heaven, Balthy?” Cas asked, looking up at Balthazar, who smiled at the nickname.

“Father had to make some of the disloyal and unfaithful go to Hell, or just destroyed them, none that you were close to, don't worry. There was a bit of bloodshed, I'll admit, mostly since they started fighting against one another to save themselves, but it's safe now. Heaven is back in business, all because of you. What do you say we go home?”


End file.
